Open eyes. Open hearts. Open hands.

pay attention

I’m using our Monday School time to introduce a new feature on my blog called Beauty Break. It was inspired by one of my favorite authors, Karen Swallow Prior.

Beauty is to the spirit what food is to the flesh. Frederick Buechner

Mostly we live in a routine, which is good and necessary. But routines can turn into a mindless going through the motions. If we aren’t careful, we forget to notice the beauty around us.

A Beauty Break is a spontaneous reminder to pay attention, a chance to stop and observe when something catches our eye. To look and see and wonder, then praise the Maker of beauty and the Giver of gifts.

Even a fleeting glimpse of beauty offers joy. Like when a delighted 4 year old points to a tree in the park and squeals “Look!” as a squirrel scampers to the top.

For a moment we can enjoy the intricate design of a seed, a burst of color in a sunset, a towering granite formation, or the creative expression of an artist. Maybe Beauty Breaks will help us learn to be still and pay attention.

I noticed this sweetgum ball in the middle of the trail where I walked last week because it was green and extra spiky. I picked it up and walked around the park several times as I rolled it around in my hand, switched it to the other hand, rolled it around, and switched again. I liked the way it felt in my hands, but I’ve stepped on plenty of sweetgum balls in my time and I’ve never once liked the way they felt to my bare feet. This one would have caused an extra bit of discomfort.

There are hundreds of tiny seeds inside a sweetgum ball. Scientists discovered not too long ago that the aborted seeds contain shikimic acid, which is used to make Tamiflu. No need for them to gather the pointy ornaments though. They found a way to make it in a lab.

Thousands of them will fall in the coming months wreaking havoc on small feet and annoying the meticulous yard owner.

Like this:

My daughters and I went to Green Mountain for our eclipse viewing. It was exactly what we hoped for. Serene and beautiful. The eclipse began shortly after we arrived but I hiked the loop trail while the girls picked the perfect spot on the dock for us to watch the moon cover the sun. While on the trail I found several clear sunny spots, stopped to put my eclipse glasses on, and viewed the moon edging its way over the sun. I was awe struck and rushed my way through the forest to join the girls on the dock.

We reclined there, viewed the eclipse with our glasses, noticed the fading light, laughed at each other, guessed at the percentage of coverage, watched a newly arrived spectator look for a good spot to sit or point to the eclipse shaped shadows, put our glasses back on and did it again and again until the moon hid the sun as much as it would on Green Mountain.

The eclipse was amazing. The whole thing of it. The going there, the watching and waiting, the laughing with my girls, the riding home afterward. But there was another wonderful part of it.

Throughout our time at Green Mountain, my oldest daughter was very aware of others around us. The couple fishing on the other dock when we arrived. The old couple sitting on a swing near the entrance to the park. The young men glancing toward the sky occasionally. The photographer setting up his special camera for the perfect photo op. There were others around but these were the ones she noticed. None of these had glasses.

She spoke first to the couple sitting in the swing who didn’t realize the show had started.

“Is there something to see?” the elderly lady asked. “Oh yes,” my daughter said as she handed her glasses over.

The sweet elderly lady was delighted to see the crescent shape of the sun. The gentleman in the swing told us he’d seen two eclipses in his lifetime and thanked my daughter for the offer anyway. The fishing lady took a break from the fishing and my daughter saw her walking nearby. She gladly put the glasses on to see what was happening up above and thanked my daughter over and over. My daughter walked to the other dock to share her glasses with the fishing man, shared them with the photography man and eventually gave them away to the young glancers so they could enjoy the rest of the eclipse without worrying about their eyes.

My daughter wanted everyone to see the wonder in the sky.

She enjoyed the eclipse but was overjoyed to see others enjoying the eclipse.

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